Page 77 of Sweet Heat

Owen grabs at his hair, yanking the strands like a madman as he processes her words. “You’re BONDED?”

His yell is so loud that Posie covers her ears, and I tow her back to me, unable to trust him so close to her in his unhinged state. With a final animalistic roar, he darts from the room, and seconds later, the front door slams loud enough to rattle the house. For minutes after his departure, the only sound in the house is the soft patter of rain hitting the windows. No one dares to breathe. Then the dam breaks, and everyone starts talking at once.

“Your anosmia is gone?” Mama Rosa asks.

“How did you know before you bonded about the match?” Samuel questions.

“He’ll come around. Just give the hothead some time to cool off,” Willie soothes.

Samuel’s question makes Posie’s cheeks flame with embarrassment. Although we’re all well aware of how things are between Alphas and omegas, there are just some things that don’t need to be discussed with the parentals. Quickly sidestepping that landmine, I tell them about Posie being able to smell all the food earlier today, that it’s a skill we’re going to continue to work on her fully regaining. They all seem satisfied with the answer, thankfully and let the rest go.

“All right, son, now let’s get down to brass tacks,” Willie cuts in, reminding us why we’re all here to begin with. “Your batting practice at the fair caused quite the stir. The league is calling for your head.”

I open my mouth to speak, but Willie’s already continuing. Steamrolling through and taking complete control. And this time, I let him, knowing our goals align—keep my job, support my Puff.

Taking it as their cue to leave, Samuel and Mama Rosa excuse themselves, snatching Posie with an offer to help her pack some of her belongings. My sweet omega kisses me on the cheek before heading out with her parents, and the second she’s out of the room, a hole opens in my heart, already pining for her presence. I want to call her back, but Willie already has his phone out conferencing with the head of our PR department along with Coach. My gut sinks.

This is going to be a long night…

Chapter Forty-Three

“Ican’t believe it only took two phone calls to get everything fixed. Two,” Miller mutters, sliding into the driver’s seat beside me. The rain’s still coming down in sheets, making it difficult to see out of the windshield. Definitely not ideal driving conditions. It beats on the roof, and my stomach clenches. “It’s amazing what your dad can do.”

“I’m glad there weren’t any major repercussions. It seemed serious this morning,” I reply with a sigh, leaning against the car seat. Exhaustion envelopes me, and I completelyunderstand why omegas are supposed to take it easy in the days following their heats. “Are we heading to your apartment or house?”

“Ourapartment or house,” he emphasizes, backing out of the driveway before dropping his hand on my knee. “And wherever you’re most comfortable. Do you want the nest? I unfortunately have to go to practice tomorrow, but the commute from either place isn’t bad.”

The wind howls, and the rain pelts into the windows. My nerves flare, even though bad weather had absolutely nothing to do with us getting into an accident that night. Bringing my thumb to my mouth, I chew on the fingernail as I consider the options. While it would be nice to nest, the apartment has tons of cozy nooks. And all the blankets. It should be enough to keep my omega happy. Plus, it’s way closer to my parents, and as my stomach churns with anxiety, that seems like the more important thing.

“Apartment,” I answer tightly. He squeezes my knee comfortingly but keeps his eyes on the road, which I love him all the more for.

“Sounds good.” He drives slowly to account for the wind and difficult visibility, and I do my best to even out my breathing. Intrusive thoughts swirl in my brain, showing me images of us bloody from a car accident. Or flying off the road at a wicked speed. So many nightmarish pictures that are all in my imagination, making my heart pound faster with every second that goes by.

Adrenaline courses through my veins, but I watch the water droplets on my window, trying to keep the panic at bay. Miller needs to focus on the road, not my fears. They slide down theglass, leaving tiny rivers in their wake, and one by one, I trace their path as they disappear into oblivion.

A bright, shocking yellow grabs my attention, so unusual against the dark backdrop of the storm. My eyes snap straight to it, tunneling vision in full effect, and I gasp. Blinking hard to make sure it’s not another dark daydream; a strangled cry leaps from my throat when it’s still there.

“Miller. Stop the car. Oh, God. Stop the car.” Horror claws through me like sharp nails, ripping my chest open and squeezing my heart. Pulverizing it to mincemeat. Through the fog of fear, I reach for the belt buckle, snapping it open. “Stop. Stop. Stop.”

“Puff? What’s wrong?” His voice barely breaks in, and I can’t form the words to explain. The door remains locked, and I try to manually release it, tugging harder with each second that passes. Miller slows the car, pulling onto the shoulder. “Babe, talk to me.”

My fingers finally find the button, and quick as a flash, I leap from the barely moving vehicle.

“POSIE…” he shouts, but I’m already gone, sliding down the muddy embankment and into the flat ditch below. The rain comes down, soaking my clothing, but all that matters is that bright yellow paint.

My shoes squish in the mud. Water runoff fills the bottom of the basin and causes my feet to grow heavier with each step. It splashes around me like a child jumping in a puddle, but there’s no happiness to be found. Lactic acid makes my muscles burn, and I’m not sure if I take a single breath as I sprint toward where I saw the bright yellow flash.

“POSIE…” Miller roars again, but I don’t slow down, knowing my Alpha will follow, and that’s good because I have a feeling I’m going to need his help. Finally, I’m there. It wasn’t all in my head. The scent of iron hits my nose, and I stagger back a step but then push forward when I see the twisted metal that used to be my big brother’s car.

“Oh fuck. Fuck!” Miller comes up behind me, panting hard.

My eyes bounce around, searching for the door, a window, something—anything—but it looks like the little sports car crumpled on impact…or perhaps tipped up its the side? I can’t make sense of all the parts before me. A tire here, what looks like the exhaust pipe over there—it’s nearly unrecognizable.

This can’t be happening. Not again.

“Posie, 911 is dialing. Can you talk to them? I need to see what the other side looks like,” Miller explains, giving me the phone.

“It’s all my fault,” I whisper, staring blankly at the screen.

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